Teachers working together to improve student achievement in reading and writing

December 17, 2007

Questioning

The Best Reading Strategy to Start With

The first thing I do with a group of readers is get them picking good books. It’s a bit chaotic at first, but after a few days, everyone settles down to some serious reading. Then I start to get nervous. It’s hard enough helping kids figure out what to read, now I have to show them how.

When I first started out, I used the popular “read and hope” method of
instruction: have kids read a lot and hope they get better. That was
before I knew anything about reading strategies. Now, when kids begin
their reading time, I usually have some kind of strategic focus for
them based on something I’ve taught in a lesson. Rather than just
letting kids read, I give them something I want them to use as they turn the pages, work with me in a conference, or share at
end of class.

There are many reading strategies to choose from, but the one I almost
always start out with is questioning. I start with questioning for
several reasons:

Anyone can question. Human beings are natural questioners.
It’s virtually impossible to read the first few paragraphs of something
and not have questions pop into your head. At first, we don’t even talk
about which questions are better than others, so every question counts
and every kid can ask at least one.

Questioning works with any text. Though I usually start
with fiction, questioning works just as well with non-fiction texts.
Questioning also works well with different text forms like newspaper
and magazine articles.

Questioning is safe. Since all I’m asking kids to do is
ask questions, there are no wrong answers. In fact, answers aren’t part
of the exercise at all. Later, I’ll point out that simply asking
questions makes coming up with answers a lot easier. But for now, all
we need to do is think of questions.

Questioning is an easy way to get kids digging deeper into their reading.
Sometimes it’s hard to get kids to go past the surface in their
reading. They’ll retell everything but they won’t rethink anything.
Questioning gives them a natural entry point to deeper reading.

Questioning leads naturally to other strategies. If kids
can make a good guess at the answer to a question, they’ll often
stumble on an inference. If they ask a question about an event yet to
come, they may wind up with a prediction. If they ask about the meaning
of an unknown word, they might discover how to use context to add
something new to their vocabulary. Kids can find their way to many
different strategies by starting with a question.

Questioning in reading leads to questioning in writing. What if,
instead of questioning a novel, a writer was questioning something he
wrote? Questioning is the heart and soul of revision in writing. Once I
have kids questioning what they read, it’s a lot easier to get them to
question what they write.

I teach questioning by finding a good opening paragraph to something.
Beginnings are always full of curiosities as writers attempt to draw us
in without revealing every little detail. Here’s an introduction to a
story I’ve used many times called Eddie Takes Off:

Eddie had always been able to fly, but it wasn’t until
his fifth birthday party that he realized that it would turn out to be
a bit of a social problem. Until that embarrassing day on the Johnsons’
lawn, Eddie’s parents had treated his airborne peculiarity as something
of a childish whim. “Boy’s gotta stretch out, learn what he can do,”
said his father. “I just worry that he’ll hurt himself, you know, bump
into the ceiling or get his eye poked out by a bird, I don’t know...,”
said his mother. For the young Eddie, flying was just another discovery
about his developing body, like learning that he could reach out his
arm and ring the bell on his cradle railing, or finding that he loved
the taste of peas. The first time his parents came into the nursery and
found Eddie hovering a foot or two off the floor it came as a bit of a
shock. But, after all, parents are forever discovering special little
things about their children. Eddie’s mother thought that perhaps they
should take their son to see a specialist, but his father vetoed the
idea. “It’s not like anything’s wrong with him, and I don’t want him
getting a complex about it.”

Once we’ve read it over, we brainstorm as many questions as we can think of:

Is this story like Harry Potter where kids do strange things?

Why is Eddie’s flying a “social problem”?

What happened on his fifth birthday party?

Why did the author call Eddie’s flying an “airborne peculiarity”?

What’s a “childish whim”?

Why doesn’t Eddie thinks that flying is unusual?

Why aren’t Eddie’s parents freaked out about Eddie’s flying?

What time period is this story set in?

Why doesn’t the author start a new paragraph when someone speaks?

Why does Eddie’s mom think Eddie should go to a doctor?

Why does the author say Eddie’s father “vetoed” his mother’s idea?

What’s a “complex”?

Can Eddie really fly?

The first thing I like the kids to notice is just how many questions
there are. Often there are more questions than sentences. This allows
me to show kids—quite literally—that there’s a parallel “reading” of a
text that goes on inside their brains. In this case, it’s all
questions, but I can easily show them as we work more together, that
each new strategy they learn adds to the quality and variety of
responses they’ll become aware of as they read.

What the kids don’t see, and what I like to point out next, is how this
set of questions reveals their understanding of the text. By looking at
their questions, I can tell what parts they’ve read and understood
(most of the first two sentences, for example), what they read and
didn’t get (bits and pieces of vocabulary), and even what they might
have missed altogether (the author’s portrayal of the parents as cliché
figures who don’t really care much about their son).

Now I’ll ask them to apply their questioning skills in their own books
during reading time. But before we do that, we’ll go over a set of
questions that applies to almost any story. I call it our “Top 10
Questions” list:

What does this word or phrase mean? I love it when kids
puzzle over unfamiliar words. Learning new words is more fun when you
learn them while you read. And using context to figure out unknown
words strengthens kids comprehension of the text around the new word so
that even if they get the word wrong they still learn about what
they’re reading. For example, in Eddie Takes Off, a hard-working reader
might be able to learn that “whim” has something do with being
temporary or unusual and not a permanent condition.

Why did the writer use this word or phrase? This is the
next level up from wondering what a word means. In this case, the
reader knows what the word means but questions why the author chooses
it as opposed to a different, and often simpler, word. This isn’t just
thinking about vocabulary, it’s thinking about word choice, and it can
lead some of the best inferential thinking readers do. For example, in
Eddie Takes Off, doesn’t the author’s use of the word “vetoed” in the
last sentence suggest that Eddie’s father is like the President of his
family and that no one can overrule him?

How does this character feel? Every character has feelings
but writers rarely tell us how their characters feel. For example,
there are three characters in Eddie Takes Off. Eddie’s seems worried.
Eddie’s father seems frustrated. And Eddie seems like a happy baby boy
with no idea that he’s any different than anybody else. Each of these
pieces of information has to be inferred. But before we can make those
inferences, we have to wonder about these characters first.

What does this character want? Every character wants
something. That’s what makes them do what they do. But writers rarely
tell us what that motivation is. So we have to question our characters
to discover it. For example, what do you suppose Eddie’s father wants?
The line, “Boy’s gotta stretch out, learn what he can do,” and his
later comment about not wanting Eddie to get a complex, suggests to me
that he wants Eddie to be a normal boy—and that he might be upset if
Eddie’s not.

Why did this character do or not do something? Sometimes,
we have to work backwards and infer what a character wants from how
they act. One thing’s for sure: just like in real life, characters do
what they do for a reason, and it’s always interesting to know what
that reason is. If Eddie’s flying upsets his parents, why does he do
it? Or, even better, why do they let him?

What is the relationship between one character and another?
Characters rarely exist in isolation, so it’s important to figure out
how they relate to one another. For example, how do Eddie’s mother and
father get along? The author doesn’t tell us much but he shows us
everything we need to know in the way they speak to each other. Notice
how Eddie’s father dismisses everything Eddie’s mother says as though
it’s not true or not important.

How does a character change? Most characters we see in
stories don’t change. But main characters—and sometimes important minor
characters—do. This is called character development and it’s something
worth paying attention to. How do you think Eddie will change in this
story? Do you think his parents will change?

What’s going to happen next? An easy question to ask but
often a hard one to answer. In general, the more formulaic a story is,
the easier it is to predict. Really great stories break the mold and
defy prediction. Can you guess what happens at Eddie’s fifth birthday
that becomes a “social problem”?

What idea is the writer showing you an example of? This
gets kids thinking of themes. I want kids to follow the actions of
characters and the events of the story, but I also want them thinking
on another level—the level of the writer’s ideas. Writers of fiction
work with ideas just as well as writers of informational texts do. But
in fiction, we have to look at literal story elements as examples of
the ideas they represent. Eddie Takes Off, for example, makes me think
about what it’s like to be different or not be accepted by one’s
parents.

What message is the writer trying to convey? This gets
kids thinking about main idea. The main idea is the one most important
thing the writer wants the reader to know. It’s the lesson, the moral,
the message. Whereas themes are often expressed as abstract ideas
(loneliness, fear, courage, etc.), a main idea is usually expressed as
a complete though (Absence makes the heart gown fonder. A life lived in
fear is a life half lived. Etc.) It would be hard to get a main idea
out of just one paragraph of Eddie Takes Off but if that was all I had
to work on, I’d say it might be something like, “Kids’ unusual talents
are often not appreciated by their parents.”

During reading time, as kids attempt to question their own texts, they
come up with all kinds of questions, many I’ve never thought about. I
ask them to write these in their journals and to share them at the end
of class. Whenever we think we’ve come up with a new kind of question—a
type of question that might apply to almost any text—we add it to our
big list.

Questioning is a strategy I teach all year long. It’s often where I
want to start when we look at a difficult text together. And it’s
practically a requirement when we attempt to tackle poems. Kids may get
tired of me asking them to come up with questions. But I think it’s
incredibly important. And besides, as I like to tell them, it’s easier
than coming up with answers.

I work on questioning so much because of all the different strategies I
can teach, I think it’ the one strategy that most positively changes
the way readers approach their reading. A questioning reader is
fundamentally a better reader than a reader who doesn’t question. And I
think, just by using questions as a primary critical tool, that I can
help almost any reader become a questioning reader.

By the end of the year, there are five things about questioning that I want kids to come away with:

Foundation questions. There are sets of questions—like our
Top 10 list—that go with certain kinds of writing. These questions, and
their answers if readers can find them, form the foundation of a solid
understanding. I want kids to know what foundation question are and
which ones go with which kinds of texts.

Questioning is an essential part of reading. When we begin
the questioning activity, kids act like I’m asking them to do something
weird, something they’re not used to doing. By the time we’re finished,
I hope they know that questioning is an essential part of reading
anything, and that if they’re not questioning, they’re not reading.

Questions are more important than answers. Yes, I want
kids to be able to figure out the answers. But in order to find an
answer, a reader has to ask a question first. And the better a reader’s
questions are, the better chance she has of understanding a text. Even
more important is the idea that readers can improve their understanding
whether they answer the questions or not. Just asking them and trying
to find the answers helps.

Questions focus our attention and prepare our mind for understanding.
A text is like a maze with thousands of twists and turns and no way to
know ahead of time why direction is better than another. A good
question is like true North on a compass. It tells readers which parts
of a text to focus on and when they’ve reached their destination.

Questions are the key to a reader’s greatest discoveries.
Reading the words only gives us part of the story. The rest is hidden
somewhere else. If we never question what we read, we never gain access
to the rest of the story.

I’ll admit that I’m biased toward questioning as the single best
reading strategy to teach. My feelings about questioning come from my
own experience of reading in school. I became an English major (which
is just a conventional way of saying I majored in reading) because of
one great professor. Dr. Canedo taught American literature and seemed
to know everything there was to know about it. One day, I stopped him
in the hall after class. “Dr. Canedo,” I called to him. “How come you
know all the answers.” “Who me?” he said with mock humility. “I don’t
know know all the answers. I just know all the questions.”

5 Comments

We've been doing a lot of close readings in class lately following the question/infer/clarify format. I think it's been so powerful for kids to see the difference between reading the old way (without asking questions) and questioning what they read. Before they would have sped right by words or phrases that didn't make sense. They never would have questioned the use of the word "veto" and why it was significant. Now by getting in the habit of continually asking questions of what they read, they're miraculoulsy finding answers or coming up with their own and completely changing the experience reading for themselves. It is a very powerful, and important strategy and it's not that hard!

Like phrasing, questioning is another of those "natural" things readers do -- as soon as we show them how to do it. And once kids get into the habit of it, as they seem to have in Steve's class, it's hard for them to stop.

Practicing the close readings on a regular basis gives kids a chance to get used to the idea of really looking deeply at text. As Steve points out, in the past, most kids couldn't be bothered with hard words or shades of meaning. Now, after a few examples of close reading, kids begin to bring these habits into their individual reading.

The other thing Steve mentions is that questioning and close reader are not really that hard. This is a big selling point for the kids and one that I think we should emphasize more than we do.

The key to becoming a better reader is simply developing the habit of doing a few really useful things. Phrasing, questioning, re-reading, none of these is very difficult, and yet when kids do them they report dramatic improvements in their understanding.

I think we give kids far too many strategies these days in reading. We should probably teach about six and just make sure kids get a ton of practice on them every day.

Meryem asked me if I had any questions specific to non-fiction texts so I thought about it a bit and whipped up a list.

I read a lot of non-fiction, probably ten times more than the fiction I read, so I'll just give you the questions that I use on myself:

* What makes this a good source for the information I'm interested in?

* Do I trust the information I'm getting?

* Is it specific enough? Or too specific?

* Is there more here than I want? Not enough?

* Has the writer left out anything obvious or that I really want to know?

* Has the author referenced other sources or written anything else on the same topic?

* Do I have to read all of this to get the information I'm looking for?

* What am I learning that I might want to share with someone else?

* Am I learning anything that would help me solve a problem? If so, what?

* How does this compare to other things I've read on the same subject?

* What's the most important part?

* Why did the writer write this?

* Why did the writer include some details but leave out others?

Admittedly, it's a little harder working with non-fiction at first. But I think that's just a habit we have in school because most of what we do in school is fiction.

Non-fiction, to me, is more natural. For example, I really have a hard time selecting a work of fiction. But it's easy for me to find non-fiction titles that I really want to know about. I also have an easy time skimming through a non-fiction book looking for the information I want most. With fiction, I can't really skim.

If we all thought of non-fiction reading as getting information about stuff I want more information about, we'd realize it's as natural as asking someone what time it is.

Unfortunately, in school, we tend to build these artificial barriers around things. With non-fiction, we think the only thing that matters is what kids have to know for social studies or science. If we thought of non-fiction just as stuff a reader wants to know -- and we helped readers locate that stuff -- kids would read non-fiction more than fiction.

After I communicated with Steve about non-fiction questioning, I had my students come up with their questions on an article about breaking up. These are the questions they came up with that surprised me because I did not expected such varied level questions from ESL students in the Intermediate level:

Who did they survey (ask questions to)?
Who is the author of the article?
Why do you think they asked to see if their (teenagers') hearts were ever broken?
Why did the author write this article?
Why did they ask only to college students?
What is the difference between teenagers and adults breaking up?
Why does breaking up hurt?
When is a right moment to break up?
What did the teens think about breaking up?
Why do we break up?
How long does it take you to get over the break up?
What does the heartbroken teenager want to hear?

It was obvious that students understood more about the text by asking questions than just reading it!

The way I introduced the concept of asking questions is by telling them that they are now teachers and are preparing a test for their students. I also told them that some questions should be from the text and some beyond the text where the students have to infer. The evidence of higher level thinking is in the questions above.

Seeing learning and growth in students is what keeps me in class and I have witnessed more through workshop than ever before in my 16 years of teaching.

I love Meryem's direction to the kids that some questions should come from the text while others come from beyond the text. This is an easy way for kids to distinguish between lower-level questions that focus on literal comprehension and higher-level questions that require critical thinking. While I've had the same luck with this same lesson that Meryem had, I never realized how beneficial it would be to "split" their questioning into those two basic categories.

I think Meryem's direction to the kids to create a test on their reading also has merit. While I don't like kids to be tested, I do like them to test themselves. That's really what strategic reading is all about. Interestingly, as I look again at the kids' quesitons, I notice that they're almost as good as the kinds of questions we teachers think up. Perhaps we could reframe our entire notion of comprehension questioning to be an activity that is more student-driven. My hunch is that students would work harder and learn if they were answering questions of their own than if they always have to answer questions from us.